A Nightmare Eased
by mcatB
Summary: Martin's worst nightmare is eased with a little help from his friends...


A Nightmare Eased  
By Mady Bay  
  
Danny rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head. It was Saturday  
morning; too early on a Saturday morning; 5:36 am on a Saturday morning;  
he really didn't want to answer the phone. Finally, it stopped. But no  
sooner did Danny sigh in relief, the ringing started again.  
"Dammit," he muttered, reaching for the phone. "This better be good," he  
demanded of whomever was on the other end.  
"Will you accept a collect call from Martin?" the operator asked.  
"Excuse me?" Danny asked, sitting up in bed now, waking up a bit more.  
"Will you accept a collect call from Martin?"  
"Yeah, yeah, put him through." A click and then silence. "Martin? Fitz,  
you there?"  
"Danny?"  
Danny heard something in Martin's voice, in the way he said his name, and  
knew, beyond the need for a collect call, that something was wrong.  
"Fitz? What's going on?"  
"Danny? I..."  
"Where are you, Fitz?"  
"I don't know. I just... I just..."  
"Martin, what's wrong? Are you okay?"  
"Danny? I need your help."  
"Okay, okay. Just hang on a minute, okay?" Danny got out of bed, grabbed  
a pair of jeans from his dresser and put them on. "Do you know where you  
are?"  
"No. Looks like... looks like a rest stop. Danny, I don't know. I don't  
know where I am!"  
"Hold on a minute, Fitz, okay? I'm gonna get on my cell and put a trace  
on you, okay? So don't hang up." Danny took his cell phone out of its  
charger on top of the dresser. "You still with me, Martin? Look around,  
tell me what you see."  
"It's dark. I'm... I'm in a phone booth."  
"Can you read the number on the phone?" He dialed his cell phone as he  
spoke. "Hang on a minute, Martin." Then, into his cell phone, "Yeah,  
Janice? It's Danny Taylor. I just received a collect call on my home  
phone, with the line still open. I need to know where it's coming from.  
Yes, an address."  
"Martin? Tell me more. What else is nearby?"  
"Highway."  
"Okay, good. I'm tracing the number. As soon as I get a location, I'll  
send in the cavalry, okay?"  
"NO!" Martin replied, fear in his voice. "No cops! Just you!"  
"Martin, what happened? What's going on?"  
"Just you, Danny. Please!"  
"Okay, okay, just me. But tell me what's going on. Are you hurt? Are you  
in some sort of trouble? Give me something to work with, Fitz."  
"Agent Taylor?"  
Danny listened to the Bureau agent give him the information about  
Martin's location.  
"Fitz? I know where you are. It's gonna take me about an hour to get  
there, though. Can you wait that long? Are you hurt? Are you safe?"  
"Just get here. Please, Danny?"  
  
"Just get here. Please, Danny?" Martin whispered, the phone dropping from  
his hand to dangle by its cord.  
Looking around the rest area, Martin looked for a better place to wait.  
He felt too exposed in the clear glass phone booth; as if every car and  
truck driving by on the highway would see him, stare at him.  
Unable to move his left knee, Martin crawled on his hands and other knee  
towards the shrubs and trees to the side of the rest stop's small, map-  
covered kiosk, into the shadows.  
Shadows were all he could see, all he could remember since coming to full  
awareness at the rest stop. His last complete memory was that of leaving  
the office Friday afternoon, heading for home.  
But sometime after that, something went horribly wrong. Something that  
left him hurt, broken and confused at some highway rest stop, with no  
wallet, no phone and no memory of how he'd gotten there.  
Yet, when he saw the phone booth, 911 was the last number he'd wanted to  
dial. Sure, it would have been easy enough to call 911; he knew he was  
hurt; maybe he'd been mugged? Help would come within minutes, most  
likely. But the thought of some complete stranger responding to that 911  
call instilled an instant state of panic and fear in Martin. He didn't  
want strangers. He needed someone else. Danny. Danny would help him.  
Danny would come get him. Take care of him. Understand. Wouldn't he?  
An hour. Could he wait that long?  
"Got to, Fitz," he said aloud, his voice raspy and laced with pain.  
He put his head back against the kiosk's wall and catalogued his  
injuries, trying to remember how he'd gotten them. His left knee, swollen  
so much that he couldn't bend it, throbbed in time with his pulse. His  
face felt swollen, too; his right eye almost closed, his nose bloody. His  
ribs hurt when he took deep breaths. His back was sore, too. Had he been  
mugged? Were they injuries from a car accident? And then he shifted  
again, and felt the pain flare up elsewhere... No. No car accident would  
cause pain there.  
And then the panic took hold again.  
  
Danny took another gulp of coffee. After rushing out of his apartment and  
getting his car, he'd made the quick stop at Dunkin' Donuts to grab the  
hot drink, hoping the caffeine rush would wake up his tired body. His  
brain was wide awake, worry and fear for his partner making it work  
overtime, but his tired muscles, overtaxed from a night on the town,  
needed the extra help.  
He was driving on Route 80 West, in New Jersey. His friend at the Bureau  
had said that Martin had called from a payphone at a rest area near the  
Delaware Water Gap. All the way across New Jersey, near the Pennsylvania  
border. Danny took another gulp. The coffee was barely warm now.  
He had his red emergency light flashing on the dashboard of his car,  
hoping that the troopers on patrol would see it and let him get away with  
doing 95 in the 65 mph zone, without getting too curious. Then again, who  
knew if they'd come in handy once he found Martin?  
"Damn, Fitz! What the hell did you get yourself into?" he wondered aloud,  
and not for the first time.  
All sorts of ideas had come to mind - he'd had car troubles, maybe an  
accident; family problems, a fight with his father, a death in the  
family; or maybe he'd been mugged or something. But none of those  
accounted for the absolute fear he'd heard in Martin's voice, or the  
panic when Danny'd mentioned sending help in the form of fellow agents or  
officers.  
Another idea had formed then: maybe Martin had done something illegal -  
and it was immediately discounted. Danny didn't think Martin would  
jaywalk, let alone do anything that would warrant this reaction.  
"A few more minutes and you'll get your answer, Dannyboy. Ready or not,  
here it comes."  
  
"Fitz? Fitz where are you?"  
Danny had parked the car near the phone booth, the empty phone booth, and  
wandered around the small kiosk, looking for his friend.  
"Janice had better have given me the right number," he muttered. "Fitz?"  
Martin startled as he heard his name called. The fog that had settled  
over him began to lift.  
"Danny!" he called out weakly, stifling a groan and a cough as his lungs  
protested.  
Soon, the bushes were being parted and Danny's face appeared blurrily in  
front of him.  
"Oh, God, Martin," Danny murmured upon seeing his friend.  
He reached a tentative hand out toward Martin's cheek. He stopped just  
short of touching it when Martin flinched, but then continued, when  
Martin's eyes met his, recognized him as being real, and Martin leaned  
forward into the touch.  
"Who did this to you?" Danny whispered.  
"I don't know," Martin replied, tears forming, releasing.  
"Come on, let's get you out of here," Danny said.  
Danny held back the branches of the shrubs and bushes as Martin crawled  
out from behind them. Seeing the extent of Martin's condition, he found  
himself angry. Angry with whomever had done this to his partner. He  
couldn't hold back the same questions.  
"God, Fitz, who did this to you? What happened?" he asked, grasping  
Martin by the shoulders.  
"I don't know!" Martin shouted back. "I don't know," he repeated, more  
quietly. "Please, Danny, just get me home. Please? I just wanna go home."  
  
The quiet plea felt like a knife stabbing through Danny's heart.  
"You need to go to a hospital, first," he said.  
"No," Martin retorted, shaking his head, moving away from Danny. "No  
hospital. Too many questions."  
"Exactly, Martin!" Danny returned. "You're hurt, pretty badly from what I  
can see. And the fact that you don't know what happened to you - you  
could have a head injury or something."  
"They'll call the cops. They'll find out. No."  
"What are you afraid of, Fitz?" Danny was dumbfounded. The fear and  
paranoia he'd heard on the phone earlier was back. "No. Forget that. You  
don't have to tell me. Yet." He carefully cupped Martin's cheeks again.  
"They won't call the cops. I'll already be there. Okay? I'll tell anyone  
that asks that you've already made a report - for whatever - with me.  
Okay?" When Martin didn't reply right away, he continued, "Martin, come  
on. You called me this morning, remember? I drove all the way out here to  
get you. I'm not just gonna throw you to the dogs. We're partners,  
right?"  
Martin searched Danny's eyes and found only truth and trust. He nodded  
slowly, ceding to Danny's judgment.  
"Stay here. I'm gonna get my car and bring it closer, okay?" Danny told  
him.  
But before Danny could move away, Martin's hands reached out and grabbed  
him by his jacket. He was just about to placate Martin, reassure him  
again, when Martin's words cut him to the quick.  
"Danny? I think... I think someone sodomized me."  
"Oh, Fitz," Danny whispered, and gathered Martin into his arms in a  
consoling embrace. "It's gonna be okay, Fitz," he murmured. "It's gonna  
be okay. We'll figure this out."  
  
After getting Martin into the passenger seat of his car, Danny headed  
back onto the highway. Stroudsburg, and a hospital, were just a few miles  
away.  
"Fitz?" he asked. "What's the last thing you remember?"  
After a moment's thought, Martin replied, "Leaving work on Friday.  
Heading home."  
"Did you have any plans? A date or anything?"  
Danny thought Martin was about to say something, but he only replied, "I  
don't remember," with a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes.  
"Okay, I'm sorry. We'll just have to wait for your memories to return,  
okay?" Danny apologized.  
The car slowed down and Martin looked up to watch as Danny drove through  
the EZ-Pass lane for the Delaware Water Gap Bridge. They quickly sped up  
again as Danny maneuvered the car back into traffic.  
"My credit cards."  
"What?" Danny asked, glancing over at Martin.  
"I don't have my wallet. If I lost it, or if someone took it, they might  
have tried using my credit cards," Martin replied.  
"It's a start. We could see if there's a trail out there."  
"God, Danny," Martin lamented. "What if there's more - my house and truck  
keys, my badge, my gun ..."  
"You carry it all off duty?" Danny asked, turning onto the exit ramp for  
East Stroudsburg.  
"If I made it home, then my gun, at least, would be locked up," he  
answered.  
"Lets hope you got that far, then, huh?" Danny mused.  
A few minutes later they arrived at the Pocono Medical Center.  
"Just stay here, I'll get ..." Danny was going to say he'd get a  
wheelchair, but Martin was already out of the car, albeit leaning heavily  
on it, but out, nonetheless. "Okay... I guess we won't."  
He helped Martin put an arm around his shoulder and then grabbed his  
partner around his waist. After Martin nodded that he was ready, the two  
slowly entered the hospital.  
An orderly, who immediately got a wheelchair for them, greeted them. He  
held the chair still while Danny gently lowered Martin into it. Then he  
led them to the admissions desk.  
"We'd like to see a doctor, please," Danny said to the woman at the desk.  
  
"Of course," she replied. "But first I'll need some information. Nature  
of injuries...?"  
"I think it's a little obvious," Martin replied tiredly.  
"Mr. Fitzgerald was assaulted," Danny intervened. "He's got injuries to  
his left knee, ribs and back, as well as the facial ones you can see. And  
before you can ask," he continued, pulling out his wallet and presenting  
his FBI identification card to the woman, "Yes, this has been reported to  
the authorities."  
"Very good," she replied. "I'll just need some personal information,  
then."  
Martin and Danny answered the woman's questions regarding Martin's vital  
statistics, address and insurance carrier. Martin signed a waiver that  
allowed Danny, as an FBI agent, to have access to his medical records  
while he was at the hospital. The woman then showed them to a treatment  
room in the Emergency Department.  
A short time later, a nurse came and took a set of vital signs, marking  
her findings on Martin's chart. She presented him with a hospital gown  
and offered to assist in helping him change. Martin just looked to Danny,  
and after getting a nod from him, told her that Danny would assist. She  
did, however slice open his left pants leg, making it easier for them to  
maneuver it over his swollen knee. She grabbed and activated an ice pack  
and handed it to Martin for his knee before she gave them some privacy.  
"You sure you want me to stay here?" Danny asked.  
"Yeah, I'm not sure I... I hate not knowing, Danny! I mean, what the hell  
happened to me? You'd think I'd remember if someone beat the shit outta  
me and... and..."  
"I'm gonna have them do some blood tests," Danny said.  
And then a woman, probably in her mid-fifties, with graying hair pulled  
into a ponytail, entered the room.  
"Good morning, Mr. Fitzgerald," she said, approaching the bed. "I'm  
Doctor Welles." She took a quick look at Martin and glanced at Danny. "I  
guess your morning hasn't been too good, though, has it?" she added.  
"No, ma'am," Martin replied. He liked the woman already.  
"You wanna tell me what happened?" she asked as she put on a pair of  
latex gloves.  
As she began to gently feel the puffiness around Martin's eyes, he  
replied, "That's half the problem. I don't know."  
"I'd like you to run some tox screens, check for Rohypnol or GHB," Danny  
put in. When the doctor eyed him with curiosity, he added, "Special Agent  
Danny Taylor, FBI. I'm working Mr. Fitzgerald's case."  
Dr. Welles nodded her head and continued to examine Martin, now moving  
her hands down to palpate his chest and abdomen, noting the bruising on  
both.  
"Any tenderness? Nausea, vomiting, blood?" she asked.  
"Ribs are sore," Martin replied, wincing as she pushed on a tender area  
on his chest.  
"Doesn't feel like any of them are broken, but we'll take some x-rays to  
be sure." The nurse reentered the room and Dr. Welles gave her orders for  
the blood work. "And we'll get some fluids started on him, too," she  
added.  
She then moved down further on Martin's body. Martin looked up at the  
ceiling as she examined his groin area. Martin felt Danny's hand on his  
shoulder and met his gaze. His torso was covered up and his legs exposed.  
  
"Nasty," Dr. Welles remarked as she removed the ice pack from his knee.  
"Can you move your foot and toes?"  
Martin did. She then checked his pulse and circulation in the leg. She  
made some more notations on his chart before making sure his other leg  
was okay.  
"Lets roll onto your side, now, let me take a look at your back," she  
said next.  
Martin hesitated then and again looked to Danny for guidance. Danny  
nodded his head.  
"Mr. Fitzgerald believes he may have been sexually assaulted," he told  
the doctor. "I'd like a rape kit done."  
"No, Danny," Martin whispered, shaking his head.  
"Yes, Martin," Danny argued back.  
They stared at each other.  
Dr. Welles looked back and forth between the two men and realized that  
they were more than just victim and cop.  
"Mr. Fitzgerald?" she called, interrupting. "Why don't I do a quick exam,  
first? I'll be able to tell you whether or not a kit would be useful."  
The two men looked at her and Martin nodded, agreeing, "Yeah."  
Dr. Welles and the nurse gently helped Martin onto his side, careful of  
jarring his knee too much. Danny moved around the bed so that he could  
stay in Martin's line of sight, and maybe give his partner a little  
privacy, as well.  
She started the exam by checking the bruising on his back and hips,  
first. She also checked the back of Martin's knee, looking at the  
bruising and swelling there.  
When she finally examined Martin where he least wanted her to, he let out  
a small hiss and gasp of breath at the breech. Martin met Danny's gaze  
and was reassured by his partner's support. Looking into Danny's eyes,  
Martin felt nothing else the doctor did.  
When the doctor stood up, she discarded her gloves and replaced the  
blanket on Martin, helping him to lie on his back again.  
"There was definitely penetration," she told the men. "There are a few  
minor tears and some bruising around the anus and inside. I didn't see  
any signs of ejaculate, though. How long ago did this happen?"  
"Somewhere in the last twelve hours or so," Danny replied.  
Dr. Welles nodded her head. "It doesn't appear that Mr. Fitzgerald has  
taken a shower or otherwise disturbed any evidence, so I'm thinking that  
whoever did this either used a condom, pulled out before ejaculation or  
used some other blunt object," she speculated.  
"So no rape kit," Martin concluded; decided.  
Danny, looking at the determination in Martin's eyes, sighed. "Okay. So  
what's next?"  
"X-rays and blood work," Dr. Welles replied. "I'll be back in a bit," she  
added and left the room.  
The nurse, in the meantime began drawing blood samples from Martin's arm.  
Once done, she set up an IV to begin rehydrating him.  
"The x-ray techs'll be here in a little bit," she told them before she,  
too, left the room.  
"I think we should start trying to track down your truck and credit  
cards," Danny said. "See if you made it home..."  
"I'll be fine. You go on back to the city," Martin said, shrugging his  
shoulders.  
"No. I'm gonna stay here with you," Danny countered.  
"But... No, Danny, I don't want everyone to know about this," Martin  
argued.  
"Not everyone," Danny retorted. "Just Viv." He waited a moment, and then  
continued, "You can trust her, Fitz. She'll keep this off the books."  
After a moment's thought, "Okay."  
"I gotta go outside to use my cell," Danny said. "Not allowed in here."  
Martin nodded. "I'll only tell her bare minimums, Fitz. Okay?" he asked,  
putting a hand to Martin's shoulder.  
Martin nodded again.  
  
"Hello?"  
"Viv, it's Danny."  
"Danny? What's up? We got a big case?"  
"Well... sorta."  
"Sorta? What gives, Danny?"  
"Martin's been assaulted."  
"What?!! Is he alright? Where is he?"  
"We're in Stroudsburg. At the hospital. He's getting some tests done  
now."  
"What do you need from me? Aren't the locals handling it?"  
Danny took a breath. "Martin wants it off the books, Viv."  
A moment of silence and then, "What do you need me to do?"  
  
When Danny finished talking to Vivian, he'd found Martin's room empty.  
Dr. Welles told him that it would probably be a while before he was back  
from x-ray, and directed him to the cafeteria. So he'd gone, and had a  
tasteless bagel and some bad coffee, and then returned to the ER. He  
paced the waiting room's length again.  
"Agent Taylor?"  
Danny looked over to see Dr. Welles.  
"How's Mart - um, Mr. Fitzgerald?" he asked.  
"Martin's going to be just fine," she replied. "The worst of his physical  
injuries is his knee. He's torn a few ligaments and, most likely, will  
need surgery some time in the future."  
"His physical injuries," Danny noted.  
"I'm going to recommend counseling for him," she continued. "A sexual  
assault is nothing to be trifled with. Combined with the fact that he  
doesn't remember it, or is blocking it out..."  
"Blocking it out?!" Danny balked.  
"Until we get his blood work back and can confirm the presence of  
Rohypnol, or any other substances, you'll have to include it as a  
possibility. And judging by his other injuries, it's obvious that he  
wasn't a willing participant; he wasn't totally under the drug's  
influence when it happened."  
Danny took a deep breath and let it out, conceding to the doctor's  
opinion.  
"When can I take him back to New York?" he asked.  
"I'd like to admit him," Dr. Welles said in response.  
"He's not gonna like that," Danny interrupted, beginning to pace again.  
"He's gonna want out of here as soon as possible."  
"He's not in any shape to leave."  
"But you said that he's fine," Danny questioned, turning to face her  
again.  
"I said he's going to be fine," she corrected. "Right now he's in a world  
of pain and confusion. And until I get all the blood work back, who knows  
what other symptoms may pop up."  
"Okay, fine, I get it. But he still ain't gonna like it," he said.  
  
"No!"  
"Martin, look..."  
"No! I don't want to stay," Martin whispered harshly from the hospital  
bed.  
"Dr. Welles said..."  
"I don't give a flying fuck what she said, Danny. My entire world has  
been turned upside down. I want to go home. To my apartment. I want to  
find out what happened to me. I don't want to sit around in a hospital  
bed."  
Danny sat down on the hospital bed, mindful of Martin's knee, which was  
resting upon a couple of pillows.  
"Please, Danny." Blue eyes bore into Danny's browns.  
"Damn," Danny cursed, shaking his head. "Has anyone ever said 'no' to  
you?"  
"I think my kindergarten teacher tried once," Martin replied with a  
smirk.  
"Let me scare up some new clothes for you, at least. Then we'll break you  
outta here."  
"Thanks, Danny."  
  
It was while they were stuck in traffic, waiting to get to the EZ-Pass  
lane for the George Washington Bridge, that Danny's cell phone rang.  
"Hello?" he answered taking a quick glance at Martin's form next to him.  
"Danny, it's me," Viv responded.  
"What've you got, Viv?"  
"It looks like Martin made it home after work yesterday," she began. "His  
truck is parked out in front of his apartment building."  
"Yeah," Danny urged when she paused. He inched the car up further in the  
traffic.  
"I convinced the building super to let me into his apartment," she  
continued. "The place is spotless. Nothing happened to him there."  
"What about his credit cards? Any action on them?" Danny asked, pulling  
the car to the left and in front of a truck to get into the faster moving  
lane.  
"His ATM card was used at four-thirty, at the bank next door to the  
office. Sixty dollars was withdrawn from his checking account. Spending  
money for the weekend, maybe. Credit card company hasn't gotten back to  
me yet."  
"Any chance we can get a look at the ATM's tape, to make sure he was  
alone and not coerced?" Danny asked.  
"I was. Just me. Getting some cash. No bad guys."  
Danny looked to Martin. He nodded his head.  
"Never mind. Fitz says it's a legit transaction," Danny told Vivian.  
"Anything else?"  
"Nothing."  
"What about his cell phone?"  
"I'm still working on that one."  
"Okay, thanks, Viv. We're on the Cross Bronx now. We should be at Fitz's  
place in half an hour or so, depending on traffic."  
"Okay. I'll call you if I get anything else."  
"Thanks, Viv. You're a doll," Danny said.  
"Just call me Barbie," Vivian chuckled.  
  
"Okay, Fitzy, time for bed," Danny chided, helping his partner into his  
apartment.  
"Not yet," Martin replied, hobbling on the crutches he'd been given.  
"Gotta see if my gun is here." He headed clumsily toward his bedroom.  
"See if I really did make it here, first."  
Danny followed, determined to get Martin to lie down and rest once the  
weapon was found, or not. He watched as Martin opened up his closet door  
and pulled a small lock-box off the shelf. Danny quickly moved in,  
catching it as Martin lost his grip on the heavy box.  
"Come on, we'll open it over here," he said, motioning to the bed.  
Martin nodded and followed the few feet's distance to the bed, collapsing  
carefully on it once he got there.  
"What's the combination?" Danny asked.  
"Four, one, two," Martin replied tiredly.  
Danny turned the dials on the combination lock to the numbers Martin had  
indicated and soon had the lock-box open. Inside he found two handguns,  
four full magazines and Martin's FBI identification.  
"All accounted for?" he asked.  
Martin sighed in relief. "Yeah," he said, relaxing for the first time in  
hours.  
"Okay," Danny began, clapping his hands together. "We don't have to worry  
about anyone using your weapon or ID. Your truck is here, safe and sound.  
Vivian's already notified your credit card and bankcard companies, she  
did that when she put the traces on them. And the same with your cell.  
The companies are notified of the theft, so you won't be responsible for  
any charges, but they haven't cancelled them just yet, so that we can try  
to track down the users."  
"So."  
"So, that means there's nothing for you to do right now, other than rest,  
per Doctor Welles' orders, young man," Danny replied, mock stern, shaking  
a finger at Martin.  
Martin tried to smile, but found he couldn't. Despite everything Danny  
and Vivian had done for him already, the simple fact was, someone had  
assaulted him, physically and sexually. And he didn't remember a damned  
thing about it.  
"You still don't remember anything?" Danny asked, picking up on Martin's  
thoughts.  
Martin shook his head.  
"Maybe... maybe it'll be better that way."  
Martin couldn't reply. Right now, he wanted to remember, he wanted that  
part of his life back, to know who had done this to him, and why. And  
yet, in some way, Danny was right, too. Maybe not knowing would be good -  
no nightmares about it, about the person who had done it...  
"Come on," Danny urged, pulling back the blankets on the bed. "Lets get  
you settled." He left the room and then returned, bringing in some  
pillows from the couch. "These should work to keep your knee propped up,"  
he said.  
When he had finished helping Martin get comfortable, Danny left the room  
again, returning this time with a glass of water. He then pulled Martin's  
prescription bottles out from his jacket. He shook out a pill or two from  
each bottle and handed them to Martin, who took them without argument.  
"I'll be out in the living room. Holler if you need anything," Danny  
said.  
"Thanks, Danny," Martin replied. "For everything."  
  
Half an hour later, Danny looked up from the lap top screen, hearing a  
knock on the door.  
He peered through the peephole to see Vivian outside the door. He let her  
in, putting a finger to his lips, letting her know to be quiet.  
"How is he?" she whispered.  
"Better, now that he's sleeping," Danny replied, leading her over to the  
couch.  
Danny filled Vivian in on most of Martin's injuries and the medicines he  
was given for them. He told her that Martin's duty weapon and ID were  
safe and sound, as well.  
"Okay, so it looks like maybe Martin went out for a bit," Danny  
continued, matter-of-factly. "Maybe to get some shopping done - his  
cupboards and fridge are kinda bare - or out for dinner, maybe."  
"Maybe."  
Danny stopped and looked at Vivian then. Something about the way she  
agreed with him didn't sit right with him. She knew something. "What  
gives, Viv? What do you know?"  
"Danny, you found him in New Jersey," she stated, questioning him at the  
same time. "This was more than just a mugging and you know it. Unless  
Martin always drives several hours away to another state to do his  
grocery shopping?" She stared at Danny, waiting for him to reply.  
"I don't know where he went and neither does he," Danny replied quietly.  
"Whoever did this, though, did have more in mind than a simple mugging."  
He paused. "It got... a little personal. There were traces of Rohypnol in  
his blood work."  
"He was sexually assaulted?" Vivian asked. Confirmed.  
Danny nodded. Vivian sighed.  
"So then this really is going to be off the books. He's not going to want  
any sort of prosecution, is he," she stated more than asked.  
Danny shook his head. "He can't remember anything about it, so it would  
be tough to prosecute anyway. I think the fact that his service weapon  
and ID are here, safe and sound, is good enough for him right now. That  
was his big concern, that someone might have used them."  
"He'd had to have reported it then," Vivian mused. She took a deep breath  
and let it out. "Well, we could skip any assault charges and just go for  
possession of stolen property," she suggested. When Danny nodded for her  
to continue, she said, "Martin's credit card company got back to me.  
There were seven transactions between ten and midnight. And then another  
two around three a.m."  
"Okay..."  
"The two later ones were at a truck stop in Columbia, New Jersey - on the  
way to Stroudsburg," she said.  
"Okay, that makes sense, the guy stops, maybe get some gas before dumping  
Martin at the rest stop further on," Danny reasoned. "What about the  
first ones? They're probably close to where they picked him up, right?"  
"They took place at a couple of electronics stores downtown."  
"Downtown? Guess he was out on the town. Hell, he could've been on the  
same block as me," Danny mused.  
Vivian rose from the couch. "I'm gonna go take a look," she said, nodding  
her head towards the bedroom.  
Danny nodded his head absently.  
She opened the door to the bedroom and peeked in. She didn't like what  
she saw.  
Returning to the living room, she pointed at her watch. "I gotta get home  
to Reggie, now. Give Martin all the information when he wakes up," she  
suggested. "Let him decide where he wants to go with it."  
"Even if all I want to do is hunt down the bastard and kill him?"  
"Especially if that's what you want to do."  
  
Danny heard the low moan and then the cursing. He rose from the couch and  
headed into the bedroom.  
"Hey," he said, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.  
"Hey," Martin mumbled back, rubbing his chest. "What time is it?"  
"About six or so. You've only been asleep for a few hours. How you  
doin'?"  
"I'm still here, I guess."  
"You hungry? I got some pizza," Danny offered.  
"Sure, let me hit the bathroom first, though," Martin replied.  
Danny reached over and got the crutches while Martin tried to maneuver  
toward the side of the bed.  
"You got it?"  
"Yeah. Maybe. No."  
Danny let out a chuckle and after putting the crutches down, gently  
grabbed Martin's knee and lifted it, swinging the brace encased leg  
slowly to the side as Martin turned the rest of his body, groaning as his  
bruised torso protested. Danny helped him sit upright.  
"You want anything different to wear?" Danny asked, gesturing to the  
sweatpants and tee-shirt Martin was wearing.  
"Maybe a sweatshirt; bottom drawer," Martin replied, pointing to the  
dresser.  
Danny nodded and picked out an FBI sweatshirt from the drawer and handed  
it to Martin. Once he had it on, Martin planted his good leg on the  
floor. Danny offered his hand and pulled him upright. After an initial  
bit of swaying, Martin gained his balance and Danny handed him the  
crutches.  
"Gonna need any help in there?" Danny asked.  
"I think I can handle it, thanks," Martin replied with a smirk, and then  
a moan as he started across the room.  
Danny followed close behind anyway; making sure Martin could handle the  
trip, until Martin closed the bathroom door, leaving him in the hall. He  
then headed to the kitchen to reheat the leftover pizza.  
A few minutes later, Martin hobbled down the hall. Danny pointed to the  
living room, and the couch. "Grab a seat and keep that knee up. I'll  
bring the pizza in to you," he said.  
Martin settled himself on the couch, propping his knee up on the pillow  
Danny had provided. Danny brought him his pizza, a can of soda and a  
handful of pills.  
"Thanks, Mom," Martin said with a smile.  
"Hey, don't get too used to this," Danny replied. "I'm gonna have to go  
back to work on Monday, you know."  
Martin looked away, his mood changing.  
"Sorry," Danny said.  
"S'okay," Martin replied. He took a bite of the pizza. "So what have you  
and Viv found out? Anything?"  
Danny took a deep breath and sat down on the coffee table, across from  
Martin. "Viv's been in contact with your bank and credit card company. No  
more use on your ATM card. No one even attempted to use it. While you  
were sleeping, she got the info on your credit card. It was used a bunch  
of times between ten and midnight Friday night. And then again around  
three this morning. She left a print out," he said, reaching over to the  
other end of the coffee table to get the papers. He handed them to  
Martin.  
Martin took a quick glance at them, remarking, "Okay..."  
"As you can see, the guy bought a bunch of things Downtown, probably  
right after he got you," Danny went on. "You remember anything else?"  
"Just going to one of the bars, having a drink or two."  
Danny nodded. "Probably where the guy doped you up; dropped the roofies,"  
he speculated. "Which bar?"  
After a moment's hesitation, Martin replied, "Marconi's."  
"Remember anyone in particular being there? Talking to you?"  
Martin shook his head. "What about the three am charges?" he asked.  
"At a truck stop in Columbia, about five miles from where I picked you  
up," Danny replied. "Looks like he gassed up his car and got some  
groceries. No other charges after that, so either he hasn't needed to use  
it, or figured that was all he was going to get from it and ditched it,  
not wanting to push his luck anymore."  
Martin nodded his head.  
Danny looked at the plate in Martin's lap, untouched since the first  
bite. "You better eat some more of that. Those meds are supposed to be  
taken with food," he warned.  
Martin wanted to protest; he wasn't hungry anymore. But the look Danny  
was giving him brooked no argument. He took another bite of the pizza.  
"What about my phone?"  
"Surprisingly, nothing."  
A few minutes of silence while Martin ate the tasteless pizza.  
"We can find this guy, Fitz," Danny said. Before Martin could protest, he  
continued, "We can just do simple possession of stolen property charges  
or theft of services. We don't need to do anything more." He put his hand  
on Martin's good knee for emphasis and comfort.  
Martin took a deep breath and let it out. "I don't know, Danny," he  
whispered. "Part of me really does want to get this guy, for what he did  
to me. I could care less about the money, he took part of me!"  
"But?"  
"But..."  
"You don't want your personal life to become public," Danny finished.  
Martin nodded. "I can understand that, Fitz. Really, I can."  
"I hate the fact that even you know... you know."  
"Viv figured it out, too," Danny said quietly, meeting Martin's gaze when  
he looked up. "She's a smart lady, Fitz, you know that." Again, Martin  
nodded. "So what do you want to do?"  
"I don't like not knowing who this guy is, Danny," he replied. "It ... it  
scares me. I mean, he could stand next to me on a street corner and I  
wouldn't even know it! What if I know him?!"  
"Easy, easy," Danny soothed, hoping to calm the now agitated Martin down.  
"I got an idea, okay?" When he had Martin's attention, he continued, "I  
can go to those places he used your credit card, see if anyone had any  
video surveillance. I'll get some stills. Then you can look at them, see  
if you recognize the guy; make sure you'll be able to recognize him if  
you see him again. How's that? You still won't have to do anything, if  
you really don't want to."  
"You'll need a subpeona to get them," Martin countered.  
"Not necessarily, grasshopper. I've got ways..." he replied with a wink.  
Martin chuckled at his partner's sense of humor. "Okay," he agreed.  
"Okay. Now finish up your dinner, young man!"  
"Yes, Mom."  
  
It hadn't been too much longer after Martin finished eating that the  
combined effects of the pain medicine he'd taken and the injuries they'd  
been taken for had Martin starting to fall asleep on the couch. Danny  
talked him into going back to bed and helped him get there once again.  
"You don't have to stay, you know," Martin told him.  
"I know."  
"You've got your own life to take care of. I understand."  
"Fitz? Ever consider that you're part of that life? We're friends.  
Partners. I'm glad to be the one you called." Seeing Martin's skeptical  
look, he added, "Really, Martin." Another moment went by before Martin  
nodded his head. "Now get some rest."  
He turned out the light and headed for the living room again, picking up  
the phone when he got there.  
  
"Danny?" Martin called. He really needed to get up. He really needed to  
pee. "Danny?" he called again, struggling painfully to move to the side  
of the bed.  
The bedroom door opened and he sighed in relief. The light turned on and  
he stopped short.  
"Vivian?"  
"You all right?" she asked, walking into the room. "What do you need?"  
"Where's Danny?"  
"He went down to those electronics stores, to see if he could get some  
video images," she replied. She ignored the look of disappointment that  
came over Martin's face. "You need some help getting up?"  
"Yeah, thanks. Gotta go," he admitted with a shrug, somewhat sheepishly.  
"Don't be embarrassed, Martin," Vivian said, helping him to stand and  
handing him the crutches.  
"What time is it? How long ago did he leave?" Martin asked as he crossed  
the room.  
"It's almost eleven. I got here around nine or so," she replied.  
Martin nodded.  
A few minutes later he met her in the kitchen. "I appreciate everything  
you've done so far, Viv," he said, taking a seat at the table. Vivian  
moved another chair out and gently lifted Martin's leg up to elevate his  
knee. "Thanks," he said. "Taking time out from your weekend, away from  
your family. I know you didn't have to do any of this."  
"You're right, Martin. I am taking time from my weekend, away from my  
family. But you're also wrong. I did have to do this," she replied,  
sitting down at the table with him. She took hold of his hand. "Martin,  
you're more than just a coworker. You're a friend, and friends do for  
each other."  
"Thanks, Viv," he replied, giving her hand a squeeze.  
She smiled and squeezed back. "How you doing? Need anything for pain?  
Danny said you'd probably be due for another dose around midnight."  
"Yeah, another one would be good, to tell the truth," he said.  
  
Martin and Vivian had been switching back and forth between Mad TV and  
Saturday Night Live when they heard keys jingling just before the door to  
the apartment unlocked and opened.  
"Hey," Danny said, greeting Martin and Vivian as he entered and closed  
the door behind him. He didn't miss the expectant look on Martin's face.  
"I got some stills of our guy," he announced, holding up some photos.  
Vivian moved over to make room for him on the couch, next to Martin.  
"You ready?" Danny asked.  
"Yeah, I think so," Martin replied.  
Danny handed him three photographs.  
"Five of the places that showed up on your credit card report had video,"  
Danny reported. "I was able to look at three of them, and this guy showed  
up at all of them. He's gotta be our man."  
"Do you recognize him?" Vivian asked.  
Martin's hands were shaking as he held the photos, looking at them one by  
one.  
"Fitz?"  
"We can always go to the truck stop in Columbia. They'll probably have a  
license plate we can run," Vivian suggested.  
"Fitz?" Danny called again when Martin still hadn't spoken.  
"I don't know his name," Martin finally replied. "But I think I've seen  
him before. At Marconi's."  
"Well that's a start then," Danny said. "If you recognize him, then maybe  
he's a regular there, or maybe one of the bartenders might know him."  
"But the big question is, Martin," Vivian began. "What do you want to do?  
Do you want him arrested?"  
"Or, maybe Viv and I could just have a little chat with him," Danny  
suggested, smacking his right fist into his left palm.  
Martin put the pictures down and scrubbed his hands down his face,  
wincing when he touched his puffy, bruised eye. "I don't know," he  
murmured. "I think it was easier when we didn't have a face to put on  
this guy. I still don't remember anything he did to me." He let out a  
frustration-filled sigh. "I mean, what if he wasn't alone? What if he  
just took the credit card and someone else... hurt... me?"  
"You haven't remembered anything else about what happened?" Danny asked,  
recalling Dr. Welles' earlier opinion.  
Martin shook his head.  
"Look," Vivian started, getting the men's attention. "It's been a very  
long and traumatic day. There's no need to make any decisions right now.  
I suggest we all get a good night's sleep and talk some more later this  
afternoon. Agreed?"  
Martin and Danny looked at each other and nodded their heads. "Agreed,"  
they said in unison.  
"I'll call you around two, okay?" she asked.  
"Sounds good," Martin replied. "Thanks, Viv."  
"Remember what I told you earlier: friends do for each other," she  
replied as she rose from the couch. She leaned over and kissed the top of  
Martin's head and said, "Get some rest."  
Danny saw her to the door and locked it behind her. Then he turned to  
Martin.  
"Come on, let's get you to bed. You look like shit."  
"Feel like shit," Martin agreed, reaching for his crutches.  
Danny helped him off the couch and followed him to the bedroom, helping  
him lie down once there.  
"All set?" he asked.  
"You gonna stay?" Martin asked in return.  
Danny didn't miss the hopeful look, despite Martin's attempt at  
nonchalance.  
"If it's okay with you. I think I'm too tired to drive home," he replied.  
"I'll just crash on the couch. I saw the extra blankets and stuff in your  
closet earlier. After he got the aforementioned items, he added, "Call me  
if you need anything." Then he took the pillow and blanket and headed to  
the living room.  
"Goodnight," Martin whispered.  
  
Martin didn't sleep well. He would have been tossing and turning in his  
bed, if he'd been able to move. As it was, his mind did enough tossing  
and turning, though.  
He couldn't decide what to do. As a law enforcement officer, he knew the  
right thing to do was to go after the guy, arrest him, prosecute him –  
for everything he'd done. Who knew how many other people this guy had...  
victimized? he thought. Or would victimize, if not stopped.  
But then, there was also the fact, or so Martin believed, that as a law  
enforcement officer, he shouldn't have been victimized; he should have  
known better; he should have seen the bad guy coming; he should have  
fought harder...  
"No!" Martin shouted, sitting up abruptly, a sudden flashback bringing  
back the fear, the helplessness.  
Danny rushed into the bedroom, having heard Martin's shout, and found his  
friend sitting up, hyperventilating.  
"Martin?" he called, gently grasping Martin's arms as he sat on the bed.  
"Easy now, calm down. You're safe. It's over," he soothed, rubbing his  
hands up and down Martin's arms and back. "You're safe. It's over," he  
repeated.  
A few minutes passed while Martin rested in Danny's arms and his  
breathing slowed. Danny continued to gently rub Martin's arms and back  
until Martin sat up again, holding himself up.  
"Better?" Danny asked.  
"No." A pause, then, "I think it was better not knowing." When he lifted  
his gaze to meet Danny's he continued, "I remember struggling. I think it  
was at the rest stop, where you found me. I don't remember how we got  
there, though."  
"What else? Was it the guy in the photo? Any weapons?"  
"I don't know," Martin lamented, putting his head in his hands. "It's all  
just a blur, nothing clear, nothing concrete. But I remember fighting."  
Danny nodded, seeing the little bit of satisfaction in Martin's eyes.  
"He probably gave you enough Rohypnol to get you out of the bar and out  
of the city; enough to affect your memory," Danny spoke quietly. "But not  
enough to keep you compliant for that long, though."  
"We need to stop this guy, Danny."  
"I know. But do you want to do it on or off the books?"  
Martin thought for a minute. "I don't know," he replied, shaking his  
head, breathing out a frustrated sigh. "No. I can't... I..."  
"Okay," Danny, nodding, interrupting. "Next question – you're going to be  
out of service for a while, until you get that knee fixed up. Insurance  
company's already got the real story - what's the story at work going to  
be?"  
"I got mugged; case is being handled by another jurisdiction?"  
"We could work with that – and it's close to the truth, not likely to  
come back and bite you in the ass."  
"Doesn't get the guy off the street, though," Martin lamented.  
"Then maybe he'll need a personal visit from Agent Danny Taylor, FBI,"  
Danny replied, puffing up his chest a bit. "Let me talk to him; ID him.  
We'll run a history on him and then, if we get more info, or if you don't  
think he's repentant enough, you can change your mind. How about that?"  
"I guess."  
"Now, it's..." Danny looked at the bedside clock, "... five thirty a.m. How  
about we try to get some sleep? You need anything else?"  
"A trip to the john and some more pain meds? Not necessarily in that  
order?"  
"Sure. I'll be right back."  
  
Later that afternoon, Vivian arrived, carrying groceries. Danny had  
opened the door for her and helped carry the packages into the kitchen.  
"I figured Martin wouldn't be up to grocery shopping or cooking any time  
soon," she said, unpacking the bags and stowing the items into the  
cabinets and refrigerator. "Thought I'd make up a few things for him. He  
sleeping?" she asked, not having seen Martin yet.  
"Yeah, took some more pain meds a little while ago," Danny replied.  
"Has he come to any decisions?"  
"Yeah." Danny sat down heavily onto one of the kitchen chairs and sighed.  
"He's keeping it off the books. Gonna take sick leave at work, tell  
people he got hurt during a mugging, I know, not too far from the truth,  
and say it happened outside the city, in Jersey, maybe."  
The look in Danny's eyes, the simultaneous anger and sadness, caught at  
Vivian. She sat down, too. "He remembered." Danny nodded his head. "Is he  
going to do anything else?"  
"I'm going to track the guy down. Have a little chat with him."  
"I'll join you when the time comes," Vivian said.  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each pondering what had happened  
to their friend; what they wanted to do to the man that caused him such  
pain. Vivian looked at Danny again.  
"I'm glad we could be here for him," she said, simply.  
Their musings were interrupted by Martin coming down the hall, his  
crutches thumping on the carpet.  
"Fitz?" Danny called, coming down the hall. "What are you doing up? You  
should be sleeping still."  
"Just too uncomfortable. Never was a back sleeper, I guess," he replied  
with a shrug. "Hey, Viv," he greeted her.  
"Hi, Martin," she replied. "How are you today?"  
"Better," he answered, heading for the couch. "Danny fill you in yet?"  
"Yes," she said, taking a seat on the other end of the couch, fixing the  
pillow under Martin's knee. "Have you called work yet? Told them you'd be  
on sick leave?"  
"Yeah, I did that this morning. Called Jack, too," Martin replied.  
"What'd he have to say?"  
"Just told me to take it easy, and that if I needed anything – case  
related or otherwise – to give him a call."  
Vivian smiled. "Good."  
"And Danny took a personal day tomorrow," Martin went on. "Gonna help me  
out some more, take me to the orthopedist." He smiled warmly at Danny.  
"Viv brought some groceries," Danny announced, pointing to the kitchen,  
changing the subject. "Should keep you fed for a few days."  
"Really?" Martin responded, surprised. He followed Danny's hand and saw  
the paper grocery bags on the counter. "Thanks, Viv. What do I owe you?"  
"Don't worry about it," she said.  
"It's all cheap store brand stuff anyway," Danny put in with a smile,  
winking at Vivian.  
"My favorite," Martin replied.  
"Don't listen to him, Martin," Vivian said. "He's just jealous because  
I'm going to cook up a bunch of meals for you while I'm here today.  
Between some lasagna and beef stew, it should last you the week."  
"And while she's doing that, I'm going to head back to my place for a bit  
– get some clean clothes and check the mail and such," Danny said,  
heading for the door. "I'll be back in a couple hours."  
Martin and Vivian watched Danny leave the apartment before Viv headed  
back to the kitchen to start making some meals for Martin.  
  
When Danny returned later that night, Vivian had already left.  
"Ooh, left by yourself for a bit," he remarked as he closed the door to  
the apartment, dropping two duffel bags by his feet.  
"Time off for good behavior, I guess," Martin replied from the couch.  
"You pack enough stuff for the night?" he asked, pointing to the duffel  
bags.  
"You all right? Need anything?" Danny asked as he approached.  
"I'm good. Viv left me well supplied," he said, gesturing to the coffee  
table, laden with food, water, medicine bottles, magazines and remotes.  
"She been gone long? I thought I'd be back sooner," Danny spoke as he  
took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. "Traffic was a bitch on the  
way home, then I got caught up answering some email and then realized  
that I didn't have any clean clothes, so I..."  
"It's okay, Danny," Martin interrupted. "I'm okay." Eyes met. After a few  
moments, Martin gestured to the duffel bags again. "Brought your laundry  
with you?" he asked.  
Danny nodded sheepishly and shrugged. "You do know where the laundry room  
in the building is, right? Not everything you wear is sent to the  
cleaners, I hope?"  
Martin smiled and laughed. "Basement. Turn left out of the elevator.  
Detergent's at the bottom of the linen closet."  
"Brought my own," Danny replied.  
The men were silent again for a few minutes, for some reason, they didn't  
know what to say to each other. Finally, Danny rose from the couch and  
headed for the door.  
"Well, I guess I'll just go do that. Be right back," he said, getting a  
nod in return from Martin.  
"Hey, Danny?" Martin called. When Danny turned, his face expectant,  
Martin continued, "Thanks, man. I don't know what I would have done  
without you, and Viv, too."  
"That's what friends are for, buddy."  
  
Danny spent the next day with Martin, bringing him first to an  
orthopedist's office and then, later to work, to the personnel office.  
Martin handed in some paperwork from the doctor, with an estimate of how  
long he'd be out of work and such. He talked to the woman that worked  
there about possibly being allowed to work light-duty, basically chained  
to his desk, so that he wouldn't have to use so much sick time.  
Later, Danny drove him home to his apartment. They decided to order some  
Chinese food for dinner and have it delivered, saving Vivian's lasagna  
and beef stew for later in the week.  
They had talked about trying to find the man from the picture and  
confronting him. They'd try Marconi's first, on Friday night, thinking  
that from past history he'd most likely show up on that night. Martin  
wasn't sure he was ready to go there anytime sooner, anyway.  
"I've gotta head back to work tomorrow," Danny said as they ate their  
dinners. "You gonna be okay by yourself?"  
"Yeah, Danny. Thanks. I think I can manage on my own now," he replied.  
"Good," Danny said. "You know my number if you need anything."  
Martin nodded. He knew he had it good – despite what had happened to him  
over the weekend, he came to realize what valuable friends he had in  
Danny and Vivian.  
  
The next few days passed slowly for Martin. His days were spent lying on  
the couch, sleeping and watching television. The only good parts of the  
day were when those activities were interrupted by phone calls from Danny  
and Vivian, checking up on him. Both had stopped by several times, as  
well, with Danny coming after work and spending the evening with him.  
By the time Friday came, Martin was ready to get out and go to Marconi's  
to look for the bad guy, if only because it would get him out of the  
apartment. He was enthusiastic when Danny and Vivian came to pick him up,  
but as they parked outside the club, that changed. Danny looked to the  
back seat and Martin's eyes. He saw the fear in them.  
"You sure about this? You don't have to go in, you know," he told Martin.  
  
"We've already talked to the bouncer," Vivian added. "He says he's a  
regular on Friday nights and didn't think tonight would be any different.  
We can handle it ourselves, if you want."  
Martin nodded, knowing the two were right. But he'd also spent all week  
thinking about this moment, this confrontation. He'd well rehearsed what  
he would say to the man, given the chance.  
"I have to do this," he said. "I have to do this," he repeated, with more  
conviction.  
Danny nodded. "All right, then. Let's do it."  
They helped Martin out of the car and made their way to the entrance of  
the club.  
"Hey, Viv?" Danny asked. "I forget, am I gonna be the good cop or the bad  
cop?"  
Once inside, the three made their way to a table, Danny and Vivian making  
sure Martin had a clear path, and then made sure they had a clear view of  
the entrance, so they'd know when the man came in. Danny went to the bar  
and got them some drinks, nothing alcoholic, they all wanted to stay  
sober for this, and they sat.  
The three talked, about work and the people there and about anything else  
that came up while waiting for their man. Finally, about an hour later,  
he showed up.  
"There he is," Vivian said, nodding her head toward the entrance. She  
looked quickly to Martin, glad that she and Danny were there with him.  
She picked up the slight tremor that had gone through him.  
"Stay here," Danny told Martin, giving him a quick pat on the arm, before  
he and Vivian stood.  
Martin nodded his head and watched the pair head for the bar. He also  
noticed Danny pulling out his cell phone and making a call. It didn't  
last long.  
Danny and Vivian flanked the man, Vivian taking a seat to his left and  
Danny, one to his right.  
"How ya doin' tonight?" Danny asked him.  
The man turned toward Danny and, seeing a young, attractive man, smiled.  
"A whole lot better, now," he replied. "How about you? Don't think I've  
seen you here before. What's your name?"  
"Special Agent Danny Taylor, FBI," he replied casually, bringing out his  
ID. "But hey, enough about me. What's your name?"  
The man had started to rise from his bar stool when he felt a hand grip  
his shoulder, pushing him back down.  
"I don't think so," Vivian said to him. "I think you're going to sit  
right here and answer the man's question. Now. What's your name?"  
"ID," Danny ordered, holding out his hand.  
When the man hesitated again, Vivan pushed his head down against the bar  
and held it there with her left hand. With her legs, she kicked the bar  
stool out from under him, causing him to grip the bar with his hands as  
he quickly moved his feet apart to gain his balance. While still holding  
his head tightly against the bar, Vivian began to search his pockets.  
She found the man's wallet first, and threw it onto the bar, in front of  
Danny. Then she found a small bottle of pills and threw them onto the  
bar. Next came his car keys, cell phone and some condoms.  
"What's this all about?!" he protested, his voice muffled against the  
wood.  
Danny had picked up the wallet. "Well, Mr. Stanley Jameson," he began,  
"this is about a friend of ours. A friends that wasn't happy about things  
you did to him."  
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, fighting against  
Vivian's grip.  
She shoved him down against the bar again, eliciting a shout of pain from  
him.  
"How about these pictures?" Danny asked him, putting the photos of the  
man using Martin's stolen credit card in front of his face. "You could  
get three to five for possession of stolen property and theft of  
services. Add a few more years for assault, kidnapping, sodomy,  
facilitating a sex offense with a controlled substance, possession of a  
controlled substance... I think you get the picture."  
Vivian dug her nails into the man's neck.  
"Now, Mr. Jameson," she said, whispering in his ear. "Right now, we're  
just investigating things. Despite the list Agent Taylor just rattled off  
for you, we aren't pressing charges."  
"Yet," Danny intoned.  
"Yet," Vivian repeated. "But you know what? I'm going to be doing a very  
extensive background check on you."  
"And I'm going to be watching you."  
"And if we see anything, anything, like what happened to our friend last  
week..." Vivian paused to make sure she had Jameson's attention. She  
allowed him to stand up and made sure he was facing her, looking in her  
eyes. "You can say good-bye to these," she added, sending her knee into  
his groin, lifting him a few inches into the air.  
He crumpled at her feet, groaning crying as he held onto his injured  
genitals.  
"Danny, I think you forgot resisting arrest..." Vivian said.  
"Any questions?" Danny asked, looking down at the man.  
"No," he gasped out.  
"Good," Danny replied. "Oh, and by the way. These are some nice NYPD  
officers that want to talk to you," he added, gesturing to two uniformed  
officers standing behind him.  
"He your guy?" the female officer asked.  
"No, not him," Danny replied with a shrug. "But we did find some roofies  
on him. Think you can handle it?" he added, tossing the male officer the  
bottle he'd found on Jameson.  
"Roofies, huh?" the officer asked in reply. "Gee, I wonder what someone  
would be doin' with them?"  
"Don't know, Bos, but you're welcome to ask him back at your house,"  
Danny replied. "Thanks for the back up. Good seeing you, too, Faith."  
The woman nodded as she watched her partner cuff and search Jameson.  
Danny and Vivian walked away from the trio, giving Jameson one last look,  
then headed back toward the table, and Martin.  
"I guess I was the good cop, huh Viv," Danny said, wincing inwardly at  
her earlier action.  
"He didn't have anything there to hurt," she murmured in reply.  
When they got to the table, Martin was standing, ready to go.  
"Well?" he asked.  
"He denied it, of course," Vivian replied.  
"But we got our point across," Danny added.  
"What's with the uniforms?" Martin asked.  
"Just some back up," Vivian replied.  
"And they're taking him in for possession of a nice little bottle of  
roofies that he had on him," Danny added.  
"So it was him," Martin whispered, looking back at the man as the  
uniformed officers took him out of the bar.  
"I think we can be pretty sure," Vivian replied.  
"So you got his ID? For the criminal history check?" Martin asked.  
"Yeah, don't worry about it," Danny replied. "Now let's get out of here,  
huh?"  
The other two nodded their heads and made their way to the bar's  
entrance/exit.  
Once in the car and headed for Martin's apartment, Martin said, "Thanks,  
guys. I appreciate it. Everything."  
"Friends do for each other, Martin," Vivian said, repeating her words  
from earlier in the week.  
"And I've got two of the best," he replied. 


End file.
